Stalking
by LeeW
Summary: Jackson Rippner is winding up his career with one last assignment: a job in Miami. All he has to do is watch a hotel manager for a few weeks and get her to make a call... The story of Jackson's 8 weeks of surveillance on Lisa
1. Chapter 1

_This story will attempt to explore the beginning of Jackson's assignment and surveillance of Lisa Reisert and Jackson's "Lux Atlantic" assignment. This story is a presentation of Jackson's thoughts and observations about Lisa as eight weeks slowly pass, culminating in their encounter from Red Eye_

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Jackson Rippner had always liked Charleston. Granted it may have been one of the many bases of operations for the Company but geographical convenience aside it was one of those rare cities in America that one could truly lose oneself in, immersing oneself in the various peoples, cultures and attractions. He for one was simply glad to be back in familiar territory. The school bombing in Europe had been a particularly messy affair, not that he had had any hand in it. That was the nice thing about being a manager, there was always the opportunity to work on an assignment without dirtying his hands. Well, not that he hadn't had to get involved in a murder or two, but really, managing was _sooo_ much easier.

"230 Broad Street, buddy! That's going to be fifteen fifty-four."

"Oh, thank you" murmured Jackson, jerked out of his musing by the cabby's abrupt announcement. He passed the driver a twenty as he stepped out of the Crown Vic taxicab to the withered old cabby.

"Keep the change"

"No prob buddy, hope you have a good time with your aunt."

"I always do, thank you" Jackson could barely suppress a smirk as the taxicab pulled out into the busy street and drove away towards the harbor. "Aunt Vivian" was expecting him, and it certainly wouldn't do to keep her waiting. In front of him was an imposing, slate-gray steel building, nine floors high but with little decoration, other than a Charlestonian wrought-iron grate at the building's entrance and a plaque with the building's address number. This non-descript office building was located near Charleston's financial district, but unlike the other businesses in the area, this company dealt with anything but money. The Company prided itself on its reputation however¼ assassinations, political coups, kidnappings, well, frankly put, they were the best in the business.

But, Jackson conceded as he strode through the double doors of the entrance, the Company couldn't function without working limbs. People like him, people who did their jobs quiet and efficiently and effectively were the ones who had put the Company on the map. Jackson had done his fair share of work of course. Years of intense physical and mental training had turned him a human weapon, and now in his eighth year with the company he was ready to collect his due.

This would be one of his last jobs. And if the assignment went well, it might even be the last one period.

Walking through the equally non-descript lobby with its marble floors and reception area Jackson arrived at the check-in area. The receptionist, a graying woman named Mae looked up at him from her computer with an amused grin.

"You're looking awfully chipper today, Jackson. Things went well on the Russia trip I suppose?"

"Apart from a little too much attention by the media, yes. I think the people have gotten our client's message loud and clear. A nice, big brash message to stir up the people". Jackson couldn't help but let the enthusiasm show in his voice. Yes, there had been some rather unfortunate politicking that had gotten started between Russia and Turkey after some schoolchildren had died from a misplaced C-4 explosive device, and of course the U.N. had gotten involved with the usual reprimands and finger-wagging, but it wasn't anything that wouldn't blow over in a few months.

Mae stopped filing her nails and propped her elbows on the glass desk, visible interest on her face. She looked around the reception area, there were a few operatives chatting in a hallway but otherwise no one was around. "So it is true, Jackie boy?"

"Is what true, Mae?"

"The buzz around the Company is that you're going to retire soon. The Russia job was lucky number one hundred for you wasn't it? Aunt Viv's got to be pleased with that."

Jackson smug grin returned again. "Well, we'll just have to see what Aunt Viv says when I talk to her won't I?" He gave the secretary a conspiratorial wink. "I promise to let you be the first to know. I think it's the least I can do for someone who sent me fudge over Christmas. None of the other agents even bothered."

Mae shrugged her shoulders in modesty. "Well God knows I need some kids to look after during work hours. And I can't very well bring the grandkids to work can I?"

"Not if you want them learning international secrets and self-defense techniques, I guess not. But I won't toy with you any longer. I know I have to meet Viv¼ .but speaking of toying, Mae, I picked up something for your granddaughter in Russia before I left." Gently opening his briefcase he presented a delicate cerulean blue Russian egg doll and set it in Mae's outstretched hands.

"Oh Jackie, she's gonna love it. But how did you know Sara collects these?"

"Well Mae I guess when you work for the Company the surveillance equipment comes in handy doesn't it?" Jackson gave his favorite secretary one last wink before snapping his briefcase shut. "Listen I've got to meet Viv in her office for our appointment. Don't let Sara break it!" Jackson headed for the elevator, his dress shoes clicking on the marble floor and mixing with Mae's tinkling laughter.

The elevator doors closed shut and Jackson keyed in his security code for clearance to the tenth floor. It was time to meet with Aunt Viv and get up to speed on the next assignment. What had she said on the phone? Something about Miami, about a hotel, something regarding government assassinations. And a hotel manager. That part had stuck out. Well, either way, Viv would fill him in shortly.

_Ding!_ The elevator doors slid open and Jackson stepped out into the tenth floor lobby. It was time to get down to business.

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The next chapter will include Jackson getting his assignment from Viv, and learning about Lisa and the mission. Jackson's headed to sunny Miami!


	2. Chapter 2

_Jackson meets his superior at the Company's Charleston branch to receive the details for his new assignment in Miami._

_Knock knock_. Jackson rapped on the mahogany doors only twice. Viv's office was soundproof and there were surveillance cameras everywhere, but even in the Company normal office etiquette was maintained; it was that little bit of normalcy that Jackson relished, the knowledge that inside these walls, underneath this charade of regular office life there was an elite group of people whose every action was capable of toppling governments and eliminating world leaders, but was no more frivolity involved than that of a normal business. A stranger might have thought them a law firm, or perhaps a psychiatry office, not a top-secret assassination company. It was a heady thought.

"Come in."

Jerked out of his reverie, Jackson pushed open the doors and walked into the office. Vivian West stood in front of him, her graying hair turned silver by the afternoon light from the windows. With one hand she was perusing a mission dossier and in one hand she held a cup of tea. She looked up as Jackson strode in. "Have a seat Jackson."

"Thanks, Viv." Jackson slid into one of the plush leather upholstery of a chair by Viv's desk and she moved into her own behind her desk. Cerulean blue eyes, the same color as Jackson's looked at him with bemused interest. "So, the reports indicate that everything went well in Russia?"

"Well, apart from a few minor snags…"

"Five children died Jackson. The Russian security ministry is launching an investigation, and the U.N.'s threatening to get involved. You're not usually this messy."

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't my fault. Ryan planted the explosives too close to a water main. Shrapnel went all over the place. You'd should be asking him about that, not me."

"As a matter of fact, we already have. Ryan's actually being having a few…_discussions_…shall we say with the corrective department. They're making sure he won't forget the consequences of failure anytime soon. Anyway Jackson we're not blaming you…you were the manager…but next time we want you to monitor the other agents a little more closely."

"I told you, it wasn't my fault."

"And I'm not saying it was. Next time just be a little more alert, and maybe the other agents will be forced to up the quality of their work too." Viv shifted back in her chair and looked at Jackson critically. "You know Jackson, in eight years of working for the Company you've never fouled up once. One hundred missions exactly, all flawless, and that includes the last one too."

Jackson's smile was smug. "Just finishing the job."

"Well, when you finish the next one, you'll be able to retire after that. _All_ the jobs will be finished in a matter of speaking. I suppose you'd like to have a look at the mission dossier?"

Another smug smile. "That would probably help."

Viv stood up from her desk and walked over to the sitting area in the corner office and slid into a black leather chair, Jackson moving to a seat across from her. Viv tossed Jackson the dossier as she began to pour tea from a silver tea service on the coffee table between them.

"Tea?"

"Sure," Jackson murmured, not really paying attention as he opened up the file and began to breeze through it. An assignment involving the Lux Atlantic? He had actually stayed there for a week last year while working on an assignment near the coast. He hadn't had any connection with the hotel, of course, he had been a guest and nothing more. Would he have to blow up the building, perhaps?"

"No explosions this time, Jackie" said Viv suddenly, as if she could read his mind. "I think the Russia job has given the Company enough to worry about concerning explosives for the time being. Sugar, cream-

"You of all people should know I only like-"

"Lemon, I know….but it never hurts to ask." Viv silently pushed a cup of steaming Earl Gray tea across the coffee table to Jackson. "Anyway, back to the matter at hand. No explosions, just a little persuasion this time is the only weapon you'll need. You've got a girl to work with this time"

"A pretty one, too." Jackson flipped through the black and white photos in the file. The surveillance showed a young woman, with fair skin and long wavy hair. It was hard to guess the color, was it russet or red? The woman in the photo had large expressive eyes framed by delicate arching eyebrows and full lips. Her body wasn't bad either, Jackson decided as he looked at the rest of the photos. The form-fitting white cocktail dress that she wore, the uniform of the Lux Atlantic, hugged her body in all the right places, showing off a dainty waist and shapely legs.

"Her name is Lisa Reisert. She's a manager at the Lux Atlantic, she's held the job for nearly three years and she's been a hit with the staff and the customers." Viv looked up from her cup of tea. "You'll be working with her personally, Jackson. We're going to be needing a room change, for a very special guest of the hotels, which you can read about later. Alec's preliminary surveillance lasted only two days, but we've dug a considerable amount on her background. Again, in the file. Bottom line is she's a people-pleaser, amiable, and probably isn't going to give you any trouble. Not that Jack the Ripper would have any trouble with his targets of course"

Jackson grimaced. "You know I don't like it when you do that, Viv. And you know what happens to people that I don't like right?"

Viv made a pouting puppy-face at him, still managing to look endearing, which Jackson found impressive since Viv was pushing retirement. "You wouldn't hurt dear old Auntie Viv, would you?" the playful tone evident in her voice.

"Not you, know…but the other jackasses aren't the ones writing my paychecks, are they?"

"Play nice, Jackson. I won't keep you anymore. You leave tomorrow morning. All the mission info, credit cards and other things are in the dossier. Just look those over before you fly out to Atlanta tomorrow. From there you can pick up your car and drive down to Miami." Viv set her teacup down on the coffee table and stood up, offering Jackson a handshake. He pressed his larger hand into her withered, aged one. Viv had a curious look in her eye, an almost reverent expression in the blue depths of her eyes. "You know, in all of these years we've never had an manager hit one hundred missions as quickly as you have. Who do you expect me to pick on after your retired and living in Maui or something?"

"Well, there's Alec, Stamper, Miranda, just to name a few."

"Maybe. I won't like teasing them as much as I do you though."

"That's the thing, Viv. No one ever does." Jackson gave the older woman a quick hug and strode out of the office. It was time to pack. Time to go to Miami. Time to meet Lisa Reisert.

_Wow. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! This is the first serious fan fiction that I've ever tried to do, and I was amazed that people actually read it! I'm gonna try and update soon, I've been really busy with my classes at college right now but thank you guys for the support! In the next chapter we'll see Jackon arrive in Atlanta, pick up his Bimmer, study Lisa's chart and drive down to Miami. Then the fun really begins…at least for Jackson anyway (I mean, who wouldn't want to watch Rachel McAdams 24/7?)_


	3. Meeting Miss Reisert

_Hey, to everyone that has read this story so far, thank you so much for the kind and insightful comments, they've meant so much to me! In this chapter we see Jackson leaving Atlanta with his BMW and his surveillance equipment, as well as his arrival in Miami and his first glance at Lisa._

_**Chapter 3: Meeting Miss Reisert**_

Jackson had always liked Atlanta. The bars, the nightlife, and the live jazz performances that he and a surprising number of colleagues from the office had a collective affinity for were just a few reasons that the Company has once maintained a regional office there. It was such a pity that they had closed that branch in the wake of the 1996 Olympics bombings all those years ago. Granted if the Company had had anything to do with that occurrence, then there would not have been a need to relocate the regional branch to Charleston.

Jackson snorted as he paced around his small apartment, packing up a few toiletries. It was so pathetic that someone as insane as Eric Rudolph could pull off such a crime in an industrialized center. The Company frowned on people such as that, independent criminals and terrorists. "Loose cannons" Viv liked to call them. Careless, bigoted zealots and mental patients who let their personal beliefs dictate the carnage and effects of every bombing and murder. Those who worked at the Company did _not_ make those kind of errors. The Company was smooth, collected, always calm. And consequently they did not make mistakes. Those people, the Jackson Rippners of the world, were deadly, effective and most importantly, ruthlessly efficient. Government overthrows and assassinations were flashy, high-profile affairs…but never messy. Every mission Jackson had ever served on required weeks of detailed surveillance and planning, each time paying off.

Jackson was very much looking forward to doing the same thing with Lisa Reisert.

Heading down to the parking garage with his suitcase and a travel bag of carefully pressed suits, Jackson tried to imagine what Lisa might be like. He very rarely had to interact personally with targets, but it was an interesting game that he liked to play with himself, fashioning a mental itinerary of what the target's personality was like, how they talked, what model car they drove, how they took their coffee. For those few targets that he did interact with it was those vital details that allowed him to unnerve, seduce, put at ease or otherwise interact with a target. Sticking the key into the ignition, Jackson's BMW roared to life. Pulling out of the parking garage of the apartment complex, Jackson took a sharp left, away from the apartments and towards the interstate. It was hard to gather an idea from mere pictures of course, and the mission dossier of Lisa Reisert as supplied by Viv had contained no more relevant data than other introductory files from previous jobs. If looks were telling though, Lisa Reisert was certainly going to be _very_ easy on the eyes. That in turn meant that she was very likely social, the kind of girl who flitted through bars and the discothèques on the weekends. And consequently Jackson would get to keep closer tabs on this lovely young woman, which he certainly didn't think was going to be a problem. God knew a girl like her was a welcome target compared to the usual ones Jackson monitored: pompous assholes in custom-tailored suits who spent hours in smoke-filled boardrooms or impossibly luxurious penthouses. Occasionally Jackson would get lucky, perhaps a mission might involve a B-List celebrity or annoying socialite who "unfortunately" died from raw shellfish or a random skiing accident. Jackson smirked in spite of himself. At least he got to be creative on those missions. But a target like Lisa, now _that_ took the cake; a beautiful girl with no business meetings to jet off to or fashion galas in Europe. A normal girl, with a normal life, that Jackson would get to interact with. Just the very thought of getting up close to that delectable little body on a personal level sent Jackson's thoughts right to the gutter…and his BMW into the next lane

_BBEEEEPPP! _Jackson very nearly broadsided a black Ford Escape, before the horn of the endangered vehicle jerked him from a very pleasurable reverie. _Dammit_, Jackson swore to himself. He was already thinking way too much about this girl and he hadn't even seen her in person yet. He did not expect there would be much need for socialization. In eight weeks he would simply be another guest among a many at the Lux Atlantic, casually flirting with the lovely young manager. Perhaps he take her out for dinner, or maybe lattes at Starbucks, and when he had her trust…he would spring the call on her.

How hard could it be? Some standard recon, and a little harmless flirting, a single, fateful phone call and the Keefe family would vanish in a not-so-metaphorical puff of smoke.

The silver BMW was going ten miles over the speed limit by the time it passed the state border.

"Lisa! Help!"

Lisa sighed. Not that she didn't like her job, but enough was enough. First one of the bathroom showers on the twelfth floor had overflowed, which had made for one very irritated and very wet couple from Des Moines who had told her in no uncertain terms that they had intended to get wet at the beach, not in their hotel room. Second another clumsy guest had collided with her in the lobby which now meant that the skirt of Lisa's Lux Atlantic white cocktail dress now was the color and scent of Orange Fanta. And to top it all off the new girl, Cynthia, had accidentally erased half the reservations belonging to a Anglican missionary group from Vermont…and ironically enough it wasn't divine patience that was spouting from the group leader's mouth.

"Leese?" Cynthia's soft, if panicky voice pulled Lisa back to reality. Lisa plastered on her best (if plastic) smile and looked at the church leader. "Mrs. Jamison, I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. We just switched over to a new computer system last week and we've been having a few bugs. If you can wait just a second Cynthia and I can correct this and I promise you'll be very happy". Now that was a blatant lie. The computer system was absolutely fine. But how could she not feel bad for Cynthia. It wasn't her fault that she had just started work at the Lux Atlantic in the peak of the season.

"Fix it? Now that would be a real miracle" muttered Mrs. Jamison dryly, the irritation in her voice barely under control.

"Well we don't perform miracles here ma'am, we just do the best we can" said Lisa with a fake laugh. God, after this it would be about 10:00 and she could call it a night. She could go home and curl up in her bed and forget all about irate customers. "We're going to move your reservations from the seventh to the eight floor and your group can still all be on the same level. And to make it up to you we'll wave the billing for the first night" stated Lisa in as polite a voice as she could muster

"Thank God" muttered Mrs. Jamison, collecting the room cards from an apologetic-looking Cynthia and strolling away towards the lobby to meet her party.

Cynthia watched the woman stroll away before turning to Lisa with a recalcitrant look on her face. "I'm so sorry Lisa. Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right." Lisa gave her a gentle smile. You aren't doing anything _wrong_ Cynthia. It just takes some time to get used to all the different passwords and functions on the system. I know it took me twice as long when I started. You're doing fine, really."

"Thanks Lisa. Maybe if all the customers weren't such assho-"

"_Cynthia!"_

Cynthia grinned. "I'll rephrase that. Maybe if all the customers weren't so _special-needs _oriented working here would be a lot less nerve-wracking."

"Better." Lisa glanced at the clock behind the reception desk. 9:55. What the hell. Leaving five minutes early was worth it just to get away from her job for the night. Granted, she felt a little bad that Cynthia would be covering the rest of the shift all by herself, but at least most of the night crowd had come and gone. "Listen Cynthia, I'm going to head out for the night. Are you sure you'll be okay?" _God, her father's worrying was rubbing off on her too!_

"Yeah. What about you?"

Lisa considered the question carefully. I'll be great. I just really want to go home throw my dress in the laundry and see if I won't smell like liquid sugar by tomorrow morning. And I'm feeling a long hot bath right now. Or…" Lisa gave her friend an impish smile. "Maybe I'll just have strong Seabreeze for a nightcap instead."

Lisa's champagne-colored Lexus rolled into the driveway of her small condominium around 10:30, As she locked her car and headed into her house she did not notice the presence of the silver BMW parked down the street. In the shadows two cerulean blue eyes observed her disappearing form with intense interest.

"It's good to finally meet you, Lisa."

_Hope you guys liked this chapter! In the next chapter we get to see Jackson's first full day of observing Lisa. How am I doing so far? Be brutally honest!_


	4. Watching Miss Reisert

_OMG! All of you guys who have so kind to leave me reviews have made my week! I've done bits of writing off and on for several years and still consider myself a novice, but I've been honored by your compliments. Granted my writing always needs LOTS of polishing but you guys have really made me feel wonderful and give the encouragement to try and improve myself. I'm also sorry that this update has taken so long; I've been writing a story about Maggie and Connor James (the mom and son duo) from Poseidon and its been absorbing some of my time. If ever gets a category for that film I'm definitely uploading it. And why am I the only one who liked that film? It was a perfect action-packed summer film! Anyway…I'll stop blathering. On to the story!_

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**Disclaimer**: I don't own Red Eye or any of the characters or story arcs therein. I would however like to own Rachel McAdams…sigh…one can fantisize. Oh, and Jackson Rippner's style cause he looks so slick.

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**Chapter 4: Watching Miss Reisert**

Like much of the Western world Jackson Rippner was not a morning person. Granted, people in his position (namely, those who oversaw and monitored government overthrows and flashy high-profile assassinations) generally had wacky sleeping schedules and quickly learned to do with without a lot of sleep. That did not mean however that sleep was any easier when one spent their night in a car.

The insistent mocking noise of Jackson's cell phone buzzed to life to the tune of Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro." Cracking his eyes open Jackson stared up from his position in the reclined driver's seat and up through the sunroof at the hazy Floridian sky. His Rolex said it was 7:00. That meant in turn that the lovely Lisa Reisert was probably waking this very moment as well, assuming the overview from the mission dossier was correct. Looking out the window of his car he saw a shadow moving behind the bedroom curtains. Yes, Lisa was definitely up.

If Lisa Reisert knew who Jackson Rippner was, then perhaps she would agree as well that mornings were, in general, a tedious and tiring affair. But she, in fact, did not happen to be aware of the assassin outside of her condo, and thus was blissfully ignorant of their common bond. And so when her own bedside alarm awoke to yet another new day, Lisa, like Jackson was forced to begin preparing for a day that she would much rather have spent sleeping in instead.

Crawling out from the temptingly warm sheets Lisa padded out to her small kitchenette to put on coffee before heading back to the bathroom. Shrugging out of her nightgown Lisa rolled her shoulders under the spray of the warm water, trying to relieve the ache in her muscles which had been too overpowering to be healed by a night of undisturbed good sleep. Lisa was not a woman who lived in a state of depression or despondency when it came to day-to-day life; ever since the rape she had convinced herself that wallowing in self-pity and anger was certainly not going to help the situation. But now, still living with a vague sense of self-disgust and sadness at the entire incident Lisa found herself more and more often turning into herself. Whether it was her morning shower, or work at the Lux Atlantic or even those rare outings with friends Lisa had become aware that she had slowly begun living a life so disconnected, so distant, so…internalized that now she was not even sure she could tell herself why she was still getting up out of bed in the mornings,

Reluctantly turning off the shower tap, Lisa toweled herself before selecting a conservative white blazer and skirt with a pearl gray blouse for work. She knew she would be lying to herself if she decided she had depression. No, that certainly wasn't. She wasn't a loner by chance, she was a loner by choice. After the….incident (Lisa could barely bring herself to use that word) life seemed so much simpler when she avoided confrontation and socialization. Lunch dates with her dad and the occasional night out with Cynthia were about the extent of her social life, and Lisa had convinced herself that the less she put herself out there, the less chance she had of being hurt, be it emotionally, mentally or physically. All three of those areas had already been violated once. _Never again_ thought Lisa as she finished dressing. Selecting a Fiji apple from the bowl on the kitchen island and pouring herself a steaming hot cup of decaf French Vanilla, Lisa reminded herself that things could be much, much worse.

After all, the Fanta stain hadn't been permanent. Lisa grinned to herself. Day to day living, indeed. The small victories kept her sane.

Five minutes later, her Lexus roared to life and Lisa sped away to work.

_About damn time_ thought Jackson. It was so unnerving to have to watch a target when one had no clear idea of what the target was doing. But with Lisa out of the house, now it was time to have a little fun.

Like bugging the house, for instance.

Glancing around surreptitiously, Jackson noted that there was little sign of life in the neighborhood. Not a single car on the road, no one collecting the papers from their driveways. Either way, it meant less people for him to worry about, and much less interruption too. Clutching a briefcase in one hand Jackson casually walked to the back of Lisa's condo. There was a high (but unlocked) fence and gate that led opened up to a small but tidy green yard and a patio with wooden lawn chairs and some small plants. The back door was no great difficulty to unlock either. With a small lock pick and a little patience Jackson had all three locks taken care of in a matter of minutes

Stepping into the house Jackson looked around. Lisa had done quite well for herself. The room he was standing in, what appeared to be the living area was a spacious and well lit environment, with large plush suede chairs and a couch, and an expensive looking entertainment center. Jackson made a mental note to look through her DVD collection at some point. Walking through the living area he then came to a small but elegant kitchen. And ahh, Lisa had thoughtfully if not intentionally provided his breakfast as well. _How sweet_ Jackson thought to himself with a smirkPlucking a banana from the bowl on the kitchen island and pouring himself a cup of coffee (still warm) from the coffeepot Jackson wondered if he shoulf feel guilty. He wasn't in the habit of stealing food from his targets, but as this morning's surveillance had deprived him of his normally scheduled breakfast, why not help himself? _It isn't as if she's going to miss a single piece of fruit and a little coffee anyway _thought Jackson to himself. It had been his experience with former clients that the majority of people were so overwhelmed by the minutiae their own daily comings and goings that if they ever found a beer or two missing from the fridge or a throw pillow on the wrong side of the couch they usually chalked it up to their own forgetfulness.

Swallowing a bite of banana Jackson observed the rest of the first floor- there was small dining room, half bath and laundry room as well as a study, all of which could be useful for planting bugs. Walking upstairs from the foyer he found that the second floor had two full baths and two bedrooms. The smaller of the two held what looked to be a rarely used wrought iron bed with beige bed linens and comforter that highlighted the beige colored walls. The larger bedroom was painted in soft yellow, with a large mahogany bedroom set that looked both imposing and homey. As Jackson set his briefcase at the foot of Lisa's bed he took notice of the sheets. The sheets of the bed were the same warm beige tones as the other room, and looked crisp enough to bounce a quarter off of. Jackson silently hoped Lisa wasn't a neat freak; having a target freak out on the first day of surveillance because of a missing banana and wrinkled sheets was _not_ going to make Jackson's job any easier.

"Lisa, I hope you like having visitors…you're going to be having lots of company soon" Jackson muttered to himself. It was of course a strict violation of protocol for a manager to involve his or herself with a target, and Jackson certainly didn't intent to be unprofessional in that regards. But how could he get an accurate measure of this woman's life if he didn't do a little exploring?

And that of course meant that Jackson could give himself the guiltless pleasure of bugging her house.

Opening his briefcase the manager extracted a small leather-bound box about the size of a wallet. Deft fingers silently opened the small box and pulled out the first of ten grey discs, no bigger than a dime, and half as thick. The Company was particularly proud of this little piece of magic, Jackson knew. Three years had gone into developing such sophisticated wireless recording software that Jackson would have the luxury of watching Lisa's every move in high definition color pixels. Ahh yes, there were some perks of being in the business he was in.

But where to put the cameras? Lisa was quite a beautiful woman. Many associates had no qualms about viewing their targets in "personal" moments, and Jackson himself was known to indulge in a little voyeurism on the rare occasions that targets were young female and attractive (a very rare circumstance in Jackson's case, since most targets were usually on the Fortune 500 list and pushing 60 on average.) But somehow he felt different about Lisa. Her life was obviously going to fall to shit in a few weeks when Keefe and his party were assassinated; why should she unknowingly be the target of any more suspect motives.

Sighing, Jackson began sticking the cameras to less conspicuous areas of the bedroom- one above the doorframe, one by the window, and another high above her bed. He had to put one in her bathroom too of course (for security reasons he told himself) so there was no way of resolving the modesty issue. The cameras were completely capable of zooming in and such, but Jackson liked to think that he could watch the daily surveillance without ogling Lisa too much. Somehow he didn't think it would be right to be drooling over a woman whose day to day life was not vital to the course of world politics and economics, unlike previous targets.

_Wait just a second._

_How can I be sympathizing with a woman I've just met?_ Jackson wondered suddenly. Lisa Reisert was going to be no different from previous jobs, why bother treating her like a china doll when ultimately he would be forced to intervene in her live at some point anyway? Shaking the uncomfortable thoughts from his head, Jackson moved downstairs to finish setting up the cameras. _I am dealing with a target that was as much flesh and blood as I am, and dammit, I will watch her however closely I want to _thought Jackson crossly, heading down to the first floor, briefcase tucked under his arm.

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_I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long to write; it was hard to write a Jackson that was interested in Lisa without making him seem unprofesssional, at least at this stage. I'm really trying to make him more in control of his emotions and actions right now. Please review and let me know what you think._


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